


Before It Ends, Just Tell Me Where To Begin

by lit_chick08



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Adultery, F/M, Post-Series, Prompt Fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-08
Updated: 2013-08-08
Packaged: 2017-12-22 19:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/917159
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lit_chick08/pseuds/lit_chick08
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The war is over, but that doesn't mean she can go back to being the girl she was.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before It Ends, Just Tell Me Where To Begin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thefairfleming](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefairfleming/gifts).



> written for the [Your Cheating Heart](http://workswithwords.livejournal.com/272324.html) ficathon on LJ for the following prompt: _Jon/Sansa, Sansa/Aegon- ASoIAF- She was once Jon's sister; he is now Jon's brother. Somehow, this feels like betraying both those bonds._

She keeps her secrets locked away in the house inside her chest, the stones laid by Cersei, Joffrey, Ser Dontos, the Queen of Thorns, and Littlefinger. Those masons are long since dead, but the house still stands to hold the black mass of twisting serpents Sansa must never loose. Once upon a time she was a little bird, and it always brings to mind Petyr's sigil, the mockingbird; she learned his song too well, so well even he didn't notice until it was too late. What happened to Petyr Baelish is one of her secrets. Once it might even have been her worst one.

The smallfolk call her the Ice Queen. They love Jon without reservation, ignoring his Targaryen blood since he wears Ned Stark's face. And they love her too, Sansa thinks, in their own way; she is harder to love. She always felt like an interloper as a child with her Tully hair, an auburn banner which seemed to say she was not truly one of them, a Northman. Even now she feels it. Though she spent so much time longing for Winterfell and all it was, the place of her childhood is gone. The walls she dreamt kept her safe from the world weren't what made her feel secure; safety was her father's even temper, her mother's soft touch, Robb's swaggering bravado, Jory Cassel's smile, Old Nan's stories. They were gone and wholly irreplaceable, and the North is not the safe haven she spent nights in King's Landing remembering.

Jon tries so hard to make it so. Her half-brother-turned-cousin-turned-husband toils all day long to make Winterfell what it was. He rebuilds the glass gardens, he spends coin he shouldn't on giving her pretty things, he speaks of the children they will have to fill the rooms, but Sansa suspects he is as hollowed out as she is. His body bears as many scars as hers, the Night's Watch having used the points of their knives rather than the flats of their swords, but betrayal leaves its mark in the form of gnarled flesh.

She never gives Jon her back. If she did, she knows he would touch the marks, kiss them, tell her how he would kill them all if they were not already dead. Jon is a good man and this is what good men do. But Sansa has had her fill of empty platitudes and will not abide them any longer. While she played at being Alayne Stone, the most valuable lesson she learned was to keep revenge fantasies to a minimum. Revenge is only useful if there is someone to punish.

Sansa does not speak of being Alayne with Jon. He would never understand it. The only time he played at being someone else, at being a wildling rather than a crow, he went running back to the Wall. Good to the core, that is her Jon. His grand sacrifice was killing a willing man and bedding a pretty girl. He would never understand sweet sleep and Father and Harry the Heir and Lysa and the strange beauty in the flailing of a man plummeting out the Moon Door.

Aegon understands. 

Jon loves his half-brother, gives him an open invitation to Winterfell. Aegon arrives with a small retinue and without Queen Daenerys, and Sansa watches Jon become younger in his presence. They ride through the wolfswood and drink themselves sick, and it is almost like the world is right again. Even she cannot help but laugh at Aegon's stories, at the easy way he has with people; they are brothers in blood and brothers in sorrow, and Sansa is grateful Jon has a brother again.

She drinks too much damn Dornish wine, and soon she and Aegon are exchanging tales of their former identities. He speaks of Young Griff in the same way she speaks of Alayne, and Sansa thinks they might've been good friends, Young Griff and Alayne, two bastards with fake colored hair and a need to see the men who destroyed their families punished. Jon encourages her friendship with Aegon, asking her to show him the godswood while he deals with a matter, and she is happy to do so. There are not many men Sansa feels comfortable with but with Aegon, she relaxes. After all, he is Jon's brother.

Aegon kisses her in front of the heart tree the same his little brother had a year earlier, his hand cupping her cheek, his mouth hot where Jon's was always cool. She does not pull away; instead she sways forward, touches that silver hair she has become fascinated with and pushes her tongue into his mouth.

"If only I'd met you first," Aegon pants as he tugs the laces of her gown, equal parts useless promise and genuine lament.

 _You couldn't have_ , she thinks as her back meets the heart tree. _Jon has always been here._

The realization arrives the same time Aegon's cock slips inside her, and Sansa squeezes her eyes shut tight to keep the tears from coming. This is what she wanted but isn't what she wanted at all, and she thinks of the serpents in her chest hissing as they welcome another into their treacherous fold.

The white bark tears up her back, leaving raw, red patches between the scars. As always, betrayal leaves its mark.


End file.
